fashion.monster

25 August 2014

break.it.like.beckham


    Stumbling across this editorial spread while researching like crazy- what the art direction should be for an upcoming project... I fell head over stiletto heels in love with this shoot of Victoria Beckham for Vogue Turkey. It really gave me a new level of respect for the scowl faced lady... 
    I loved her really getting into character- and my god how I LIVE for the limo shot! Owning bitchy brattiness with a perfectly polished scream that shatters windows encrusted with diamonds... Genius Vogue Turkey!
    And Mrs. Beckham? I bow my head in respect, because from you this I did not expect. I love being taken by surprise. Truly I do. Possibly because I get off on "proving people wrong" or delivering to the client work that they didn't expect from a crazy little artsy fashion monster, who wears tights and doesn't notice or care when there's a tear... call me "elegantly disheveled" for all I care; it encompasses my aesthetic perfectly. 
    I'm not one whom doesn't pretend to tote around a faux Birkin attempting to pass it off as real. (the only things you should or can fake in life are: your hair, your nails and your tan- everything else- "keep it 100%)
    But hand to Jesus- in Beverly Hills- you have 0 idea how many of those bitches toting their bags are faux... It's disrespectful to the designer and the artist! if you can't afford it- there are plenty of options of how to look like a posh bitch with a stick up her ass and scoot down the street out of boredom because of how difficult it is to be a "housewife" in todays world... (this is where I plot a slow, tedious, and painful death at the sheer idea of that all... fucking losers). Yes I said it and I stand by it , un apologetically  so- because I say what I mean, what I said may be mean- but I meant every word. Especially coming from a really dark creature like me.. born and raised in Holmby Hills... I had to run to find out what authenticity is, and to understand what isn't. The truth? It's not "harsh"- it's quite fun actually... everyone is full of shit until proven otherwise. No? Xx bella








inspo

23 August 2014

little red riding hood



sophia lucia in red riding hood. I've been in love with this artist for two years now. Have to think of the perfect project... motion editorial... 

scary little monster

    Iphone's weren't "tweeting" or #hashtagging when I was dancing competitively from age 4... because they had not been invented yet unfortunately, which is why I live vicariously through dance moms...     
    When (and if) you were picked to do a solo, the first thought racing rampantly through my head thing, far before even the style I was assigned, was the piece of music. 
    The music brought my understanding of the character and the "mood" to set the tone for what my instructors wanted to bring out of me. A soft lyrical routine; was it set to a tone of anguish and pain? (mentally you then have "to go" to that place, a painful one to say the least, as I built up more material through the years, bringing it to the floor only fueled my dancing career to a higher level each time. 
    Or was it set to an exciting Jazz routine- feeling like you could give Beyonce's back up dancers a run for their money, as the fast paced turns and jumps were the focal point more than your arms a la second having a soft elegance with resistance. 
    Whatever the case may be- here is an ode to "little bellerina" (a nickname my studio slapped on as I was determined to get to the 32 fouettés, accomplished by age 10. Almost at 9, but with technique and no bobbles on my turns, 10). 
    Sarah Hunt did this piece justice without missing one dark little monster beat. Well done my little monster. From one to another. Xx bella



the song is "happy" by Drooom 

08 August 2014

vogue.italia


JI was driving around the bend of Sunset Blvd as Sisilia and I were texting... Before we started planning her wedding. We went back and forth as she asked me what to "call" a picture of me chopping tomatoes while having a glass of red and wearing my favorite lynx coat with a cigarette dangling on my lips... Unsure of even why.. "The Bourgeois Butcher" it was! 


     The last time I cried so hard because I was so happy was 11.11.11 Sis texted me a link- as I sat dumbfounded at the computer screen... I was Vogue Italia's photo or the day...  
      And was "for sale" in the Corso Como Gallery ( Group exhibition for Vogue Italia in Milan, Italy)?!?!. (I wonder who bought me- hmm) 
      Having lost my mom 4.30.11 I got to cry for a different reason for once. And it was all because of my Sisilia... Her work speaks for itself, but to be a part of the start of an artists path, is not only an honor- but has a high that nothing could touch. I'm so proud of you Sisilia- and honored to have been your muse! 





Check out http://www.sisiliapiringphoto.com/gallery/los-angeles-fashion-photographer-2/

On 11.11.11 I can say with every bit of confidence and certainty... It was the last time I cried so hard because I was so happy. Xx the amused muse... Bella 






03 July 2014

die

FIREStARTER

get.naked

vul·ner·a·ble
ˈvəln(ə)rəbəl/

   Adjectivesusceptible to physical or emotional attack or harm.



  1. Synonymshelplessdefenselesspowerlessunguardedweaksusceptible


A terrifying word, especially to an artist- sending shivers up  my spine at the thought alone. Willing to be "naked", exposed, unguarded, and most of all and importantly of all- vulnerable. 


when you see certain artists when they perform, like no one is there, they're naked- getting lost in their "character", in their "art", and we just happen to be there watching. That's a difficult place to get to, and one that especially in private settings, is an even harder reach to chip away at the armor we hold up from the darts thrown at our hearts. 




bringing out the different "sides", our different bits and pieces that make us who we are... kudos to you Mr. Bravin... for walking in and automatically there was no wall at all. The hair stylist, assistants, make up, no one was "there", I've come all this way to find out how to come back again to being 8 years old, when my first perfectly pointed toe would hit the stage ready for my solo... because to Madame Bruner's credit, she said no one was watching when I danced, because I danced and get lost in it- and the audience was `there as onlookers, I didn't notice, nor care I'm sure. 


And that's exactly what Adam Bravin was able to do with me when shooting me for Elle Japan magazine... he had me naked, it was just us, and I wasn't scared to even be scared. He made me feel safe to be completely exposed. Thank you Adam. 

25 June 2014

bedtime.stories

    It's to no ones surprise how many shoots that we hash tag as: #sexual #raw #gritty #SomeGuyHashtaggingFuckHerBrainsOut. Whatever gets the predators and those whom objectify off, secretly we get off too as well.


 The mother fuckers make some great art. The words of "yes! Good girl! STAY! Stay RIGHT THERE." becomes almost the background music in my ears as I have an almost evil grin spread across my face, with one hand on my chest and the other usually clutching Jimi Hendrix as we get her exactly where we want her... and the object of the objectification?...


Well, sex sells doesn't it? What provocative and sexually beasts we really are inside, shaking our fingers at those whom aren't afraid to display or explore our animalistic instincts in bed. The instincts that make us rip off each others clothes before we get to the bed, with your legs wrapped around his waist as you're tossed like a rag doll on the mattress top, topless of course, as hands are roaming, groping, grabbing, scratching, biting your lip as  your climax excitedly awaits... and when we reach it- laying on each other panting for a moment... our urge has been satisfied. As the predator has caught his pray.

      Want to call me sexist? Do I objectify women too much? Do I at all? Fuck ya I do, and unapologetically so at that. I love the grit, the raunchy, the raw, the kiss me kill me hold me thrill me. Gives a whole new meaning to someone calling you an animal doesn't it?  





















24 June 2014

the holly holy grail


I finally found "the one" after a year and a half... 

     Being one to not "settle", I knew she had to exist. A hot chick that could skate... like REALLY skate, especially empty pools, (another criteria pertinent to the concept). 
     During a family barbecue, a stunning blonde, beachy waves with the perfect sun kissed golden locks we all sit in our stylists chairs for hours to attempt to reach. 
     As Jimi Hendrix and his usual slutty friendly self found her pup, our bitches were running after each other in no time, and I became a Holly fan right away. 
     Then she drops the bomb of not just being able to skate... but- literally is one of the top pro skaters to even touch the game, let alone a board. 
     Being beyond excited to work with her is an understatement. Getting to throw on cool clothes (or ahem "weird clothes") and have her kill the empty pools like they've been bent over already waiting knowing they're about to made into her bitch, it's going to be a ridiculously amazingly badass shoot. And I can't wait!! FUCK YAAAAH I FOUND the HOLLY HOLY GRAIL! 

18 June 2014

host.this.sh!t

fuck off on a sunday

looks like this 









stylists. photographers. make up artists. hair stylists. 

     Our paychecks center around how we are hired... always be "the client". As they are the ones whom out of countless artists have selected YOU, to bring THEIR vision to life.. well putting in your two cents involves your "creative freedom", to a "cute" level. Putting your "spin", "interpretation"... oh who the fuck are we kidding? 
     It's an all too familiar tune to text, call, get in touch with one another sans our agents, clients, and our paying projects- to "get creative" on a Sunday. (Using Sunday as a metaphoric ideal of course, to illustrate my point to the 9-5 ers, as Sunday being the perfect day to "fuck off".
     With my case in point, these are the results of "fucking off" on a Sunday. As my big red Ward Robinson and I did on this particular Sunday. To no surprise of mine, some of my favorite work comes from when some artists come together with the only intention is how we "fuck off on a Sunday"... Couldn't love it more if I tried! Xx